Fighting Nothing
Fighting Nothing
[Intro — spoken / feedback building]
Head in hands.
Paint fumes.
Brain bruised.
A headache
or depression.
A sickness
or just thinking too much.
So I got up.
[Verse 1 — fast / shouted]
In the dream
I was fighting.
Doubt.
Fear.
Blood.
Control.
The world
and everything
that tries
to own my soul.
Something mechanical.
Something indestructible.
Something I could not win against.
Something that hit back
harder than I could even think
of hitting.
Something that could not die.
But at least
when I was fighting,
I was happy.
At least
when I was fighting,
I knew where
to put my hands.
[Chorus — gang vocals]
Fighting nothing!
Losing to the air!
Fighting nothing!
No enemy there!
Give me a mountain!
Give me a wall!
Give me a monster
with a name I can call!
Fighting nothing!
Head full of noise!
Heart full of art
and no meaningful choice!
[Verse 2 — punk-rap rhythm]
Routine bites down.
Day repeats.
Breakfast.
Shit.
Shower.
Teeth.
Lessons learned
without a fight
turn to dust
by morning light.
Watch another hero
learn the thing.
Read another book
and feel nothing.
Information
without scars.
Knowledge trapped
behind bars.
They say get real.
Get clean.
Get paid.
Get a haircut.
Get remade.
Job ad.
Toolbox.
Safe bet.
Dead face.
Take your place
in the machine
and call that grace.
[Chorus — bigger]
Fighting nothing!
Losing to the air!
Fighting nothing!
No enemy there!
Give me a mountain!
Give me a wall!
Give me a monster
with a name I can call!
Fighting nothing!
Head full of noise!
Heart full of art
and no meaningful choice!
[Break — stop-start]
I am not
an efficient tool.
I am not
an efficient tool.
I am not
an efficient tool.
I am not
an efficient tool.
[Verse 3 — shouted / driving]
So I walk
to escape the thought.
Walk till the body
stops feeling caught.
Walk till the streets
go thin and strange.
Walk till the weight
in my chest gets changed.
Bag on my back
I don’t remember packing.
Spray cans clacking.
Old bread cracking.
Cut stencils.
Dead messages.
Fingers coloured
by evidence.
Deface.
Beautify.
Leave the mark
and leave the lie.
Empty the can.
Empty the head.
Rainbow dries
on hands half-dead.
[Breakdown — half-time / heavy]
I am not a haircut.
I am not a job ad.
I am not a bookmark
for a life I never asked for.
I am not a leech.
I am not a waste.
I am not wrong
for wanting shape.
I am not nothing.
I am not nothing.
I am not nothing.
So why am I
fighting nothing?
[Gang vocal]
Name the fight!
[Final Chorus — full band]
Fighting nothing!
Losing to the air!
Fighting nothing!
No enemy there!
Give me a mountain!
Give me a wall!
Give me a monster
with a name I can call!
Fighting nothing!
Head full of noise!
Heart full of art
and no meaningful choice!
[Final Breakdown — slower / crushing]
Name the fight.
Name the wound.
Make the void
leave the room.
Name the fight.
Name the wound.
Make the void
leave the room.
If I’m fighting nothing,
then nothing gets named.
If I’m fighting nothing,
then nothing gets maimed.
[Outro — spoken / fading]
Head in hands.
Paint fumes.
Brain bruised.
I thought I was fighting nothing.
But maybe
nothing
was fighting me too.